


Invincible, Tragical, Whatever

by Dinochickennugget



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: College AU, F/M, M/M, Medical, Medical Procedures, Multiple Points of View, Organ Transplantation, Pepperony - Freeform, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Referenced Child Abuse, Stucky - Freeform, Substance Abuse, hospital au, modern day stucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-09 23:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6928354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dinochickennugget/pseuds/Dinochickennugget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is in desperate need of a liver transplant. Darcy Lewis is a college student looking for a sense of purpose. When fate, coincidence, and biology bring them together, they discover an unbreakable bond that surpasses their downfalls and vices. </p><p>Title comes from the Bon Jovi song "Captain Crash and the Beauty Queen of Mars"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

There’s nothing so grandstanding like the megalopolis of a hospital. It’s own city, hallways like streets trafficked with cart-cars, walking pedestrians, and the occasional pit stop for coffee and snacks and souvenirs. The insides are hidden by white blinds, self-contained and sanitized from the ill-ridden murk of the outside. Everything is cleaned, healed, taken care of. Quiet only except for times when the sirens break the reverie, and the hustle of squeaking soles on the newly waxed floors stir up the curtains, and the injured or sick in the rooms the curtains close off. The times when broken, sick shadows from the world outside the blinded windows can’t be fixed slip away into the night to the sound of electric zaps, beating on chests, and flat lines. Everything is still orderly, simplicated. Mathematically significant. This night is the same in the life of the beating city, and from the muteness, a monotone line breaks the spell once again.

***** 

Seconds ticked by, faintly audible underneath the waiting room’s white noise machine. Waterfalls. Darcy squirmed against the too-soft couch and regretted the large mocha she had downed right before. Not wanting to miss being called in, she sighed and tried to get comfortable. It was easier said than done. The office of a hospital social worker wasn't necessarily her idea of idyllic.

Eventually the sound of high heels clicking against the tile caught her attention. As she lifted her eyes from her Tumblr dash, she was approached by a young but professional-looking woman who immediately offered to shake hands. “Darcy Lewis?” When she nodded, the other woman continued in a clipped voice. “I'm Maria Hill, I'm the director of social work here, and I'll be handling your psychological evaluation.”

Darcy took a deep breath, and nodded again, trying to calm the sudden swarm of butterflies in her stomach. They moved into the side office, and Hill launched into the questionnaire. “Tell me why you're here, Darcy.”

Not sure if it was a genuine question or a tactic to psych her out, Darcy shrugged. “Exactly what the doctor called about, I guess. I want to register as an organ donor. Well, a live one. You know, kidney and marrow and stuff. The spares.” She tried to convince herself it was phrased right while her response was written. 

“Okay. And your decision. Tell me about it.”

“I'm a political science major,” Darcy said dryly. “Pre-law. I figured, I've already sold my soul to helping people out, so I may as well get my corporeal body in the act, too.” 

Maria pursed her lips. “Your use of the term ‘sold’ is-”

“Purely sarcasm. I know it's, like, super illegal to benefit from this. Like I said, I'm studying law. So no worries there. And I've donated blood before, so that's nothing new.”

“Okay, good. And it says in your chart that you aren't doing this for a specific recipient. It's just something you feel you need to do? There's nothing influencing you or pressuring you?”

Yes. Yes there was. Since she had learned the truth about her birth- a one-night college affair between two people with no intention to handle the consequences- she had a sense of both guilt and meaning. “I guess I figure, I'm here. I'm alive, I'm human, and there's something I can do. And it's not like I'm using the extra bits anyway, right?”

“Alright. Well, you can change your mind at any time. You would just let me know. We could even tell anyone else it's a physical issue, so you wouldn't have to feel like you need to justify it.” Maria finished writing and continued. The questions ranged from clinical to personal, but by the end, Darcy was more confident in her decision. 

“Well, it seems like everything is in order.” Maria finally closed her notebook and nodded. “I'm going to let them know they can put you on the list. We’ll call you if there's anything else we need, as far as testing goes. And of course we’ll get ahold of you if there's a match.” Her tone was casual for the situation. Her phrasing almost seemed like the terms and conditions on a dating site. Somehow this reassured Darcy. 

“Alright, great. Just one more thing?” Maria nodded, prompting her to continue. “Would I be able to meet the person? I've seen it in movies and stuff, and I think I'd like to know who my guts are going to.”

“No problem.” Maria led Darcy from the office. “If it's okay with the recipient, it's okay with us. We’ll be in touch.”

***** 

You ever notice how toes look significantly shorter just as they are about to break the surface when they rise beneath the water? Tony was drunk. He was noticing things, lifting his foot till it almost touched the bubbly surface. Jacuzzi jets hitting his back, felt amazing. He had midget toes. 

“Get out of the bath.” 

He turned his head, kind of, slightly. Pepper towered above him, hands on her hips, great hips, he might add. Hell, even if he were standing, and he’s taller than she is, Pepper would still be towering above him. Pepper is a tall woman, both in stature and personality.

“I’m not going, Pepper. I refuse.” He sank back into the tub until his ears are almost underwater. When he talked bubbles rippled the water, “Listen, I don’t need their tech, or their brains, if I wanted a damned liver I’d make one.” Even drunk Tony was ten times smarter than those fucking doctors. Maybe not, but the water was feeling really nice on his chilled skin at the moment. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” she snapped. “Look, you need this, and I think you know it. Whether or not you want to admit it, I don’t care. We’re going.”

There was no response. She tapped her foot against the tile and shot him a glare. “Get up. Get dressed. We’re going. And you need to act like you’ve got it together, or you know they’ll take you off the waiting list.”

“Pep, I’m tellin’ you, I don’-”

“Yeah. I know.” She sat beside the tub, looking vulnerable. Her mouth was drawn back into a tight line, and there were dark half moons stamped underneath her eyes. “You don’t want to take it. You have yourself convinced that you don’t want to live. You’ve made that obvious, but I don’t care.” She twisted at the engagement ring on her fourth finger. The bright blue sapphire glinted in the light. “We’re a team now.” 

Her words sobered him up some, pushes himself up so he’s at least above the water, almost at eye level with her. Her eyes lift from her ring to his face, and the love was as real, as solid, as beautiful as the freckle on the tip of her nose. This was the love of his life, and the love of his life was perfect. He laid his arm on the edge of the bath, water drips down the side, glistens off the ends of dark hair. The outside air was extremely cold in comparison to the steaming water. He touches her face. 

“Your hands are wet, Tony.” She pulls away, wiped her cheek on her shoulder. But before he could set his hand down she grabbed it in both of hers, kissed it. 

“My life has been going down a road leading here since before I met you, Pep, I just can’t do this anymore, I don’t deserve you,” he whispered tearful. “I love you more than anyone, more than anything I’ve ever loved in my entire life” Even as he spoke, Pepper shook her head, disagreeing, and pressed her soft lips against his pruned, soapy fingers. 

“Prove it.” She hated the way her voice shook. “Get dressed, and meet me downstairs. We’re going.” 

“But-” He leaned over the side of the tub, retching. 

“No buts.” She crossed her arms, refusing to offer sympathy now. In her mind, the situation was his fault. “You're an adult. Act like it. Pull yourself together and meet me downstairs, ready to go, in ten minutes, or it's back to rehab. I'm not kidding this time.” 

When she left Tony spent what felt like a long time with his head hung over the side of the tub, staring at his own vomit that pooled on the floor in Pepper’s place. It had an unhealthy pink tinge to it, glossy, almost translucent. He presumed blood. It didn’t matter. And her words were wasted on him. The truth of the matter is, he had barely any control over himself these days. His mind was a broken place, a dark place. Pepper reminded him of a woman he met, weeks ago, sitting on a park bench in the Gardens. It was noon and Tony was working himself towards drunk, he’d just found out about his “problem” hadn’t told Pepper yet. It was also the beginning of what would become a slightly concerning alcohol problem. The woman he met was elderly, perhaps ancient, he had sat beside her on the park bench. 

“You young folk these days” the woman had croaked, after they'd been sitting awhile. She took a drag on a long cigar, blowing smoke from her nose like a flaring purple dragon, “you all have problems. So many problems. You’re depressed, you’re anxious, you’re obsessive, insomniacs, you’re all damn hypochondriacs is my opinion” she looks at him, “and you. Drunk and it ain’t even noon yet. We all got problems, son. Every damned one of us. So suck up your bullshit and throw that bottle away, and face whatever it is you’re running from cause I don’t need your drunk, smelling ass ruining my day.” 

He laughed. Okay, maybe that’s not exactly how it went. Something like that though. Pepper reminded him of the old lady, at any rate. She was similarly strong and victimless. He reluctantly drains the water, hits the button that turns the jets off. He gets up, towels off. Pepper had moved his clothes from the bedroom to the bathroom, had laid them on the top of the toilet seat. He grabs them, dresses. In the mirror he faces himself, dark hair longer than it had been in a while, thinning at his temples, dark and wavy over his forehead. He took a comb to the waves, put in a little hair gel. The alcohol was wearing off. He brushed his teeth, put on some cologne. Before he turned the light off Tony looked long and hard at his reflection, trying to remember a time when he looked at himself and didn’t see one giant mathematical anomaly he couldn’t solve. Pepper was waiting. He didn’t have for this kind of self-pity. 

Off to the damn fucking doctors. 

*****

“So, she's actually going to do it?” The smaller man’s eyes widened as he stared up at his boyfriend in shock. 

There was a slight grunt of agreement from across the table. “You know my sister, Stevie. She's a tough one. Ever since we took her in, she's been a fighter. I don't always agree, but you know how it is. Listening to big brother just isn't as appealing as it was years ago, and now she's off giving her organs to some stranger.”

“They say you follow the example of your older siblings,” Steve pointed out, with a nod directed towards Bucky’s prosthetic. “She watched you enlist. You were doing something you believed in, and she saw that. This is her fight, and she's ready.”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky let out a heavy sigh. “Forgive me if I don't like the idea of my little sister getting hacked apart, no matter how cute the supervising nurse is.”

“You physical therapy guys. You know, not every department is all about gaping wounds and gore. The transplant world is sweet, in a way. Like yesterday, we gave a baby a new heart. That's the kind of thing Darcy is making possible. Someone is going to get another chance, because of her.”

“Right, yeah. You're right.” He sighed, and pushed Steve’s salad closer. “You need to eat. Don't want you having another blood sugar drop.”

Lacking a valid argument, Steve gave in. They sat in silence for a new minutes before Steve’s pager went off. “I have to go. I just got the lab results, and they're not pretty. I'll see you tonight?” After a quick kiss, he ran off towards the patient’s room. 

The door was open. Seeing Steve approach, Pepper rushed out into the hallway and closed the door behind her. She crossed her arms, anxious to appear in control, and turned to face him. “How bad was it?” 

He shook his head. “Not good. His worst this month. I just got the toxicology report back. His blood alcohol was point two percent. That's severe. We’re going to keep him overnight, and keep treating for alcohol poisoning. Now, with the shape of his liver-”

“We’re working on it,” she cut in dryly, desperately. “With a little more time, we can figure this out. He was doing so well, until last night. We can prove it, we just need more time.”

“Sweetheart…” He bit his lip and reached up to place a hand on her shoulder. “You and I both know that we can't wait long. That liver won't last another few months, and UNOS won't give us one if they think he's just going to keep drinking. We can keep treating the symptoms, but other than that, your options are extremely limited.”

“But there are options,” she insisted. “You just said so. What are they? I'll do anything.”

“You'll need to speak to the doctor. But the only option here is if you find a willing, eligible living donor. The liver grows back after a few weeks, we can take just a segment of someone else’s. They would need to be healthy, and a near perfect match. If there's any living family, especially siblings or children…”

She shook her head. When she finally spoke, her voice was more assertive than ever. “My blood type is O. I can donate to anyone. Where do I sign up?”

“We can test you, Pepper,” he promised gently. “But you have to have more in common than blood type. There are other factors. We won't know until we test you. The only thing I know for sure is that we’ll do everything we can.”

“You see?” she sighed, somewhat relieved as she pulled him into a hug. “This is why you're my favorite.”

*****

Late the next morning, Darcy as still slumped over at her desk, asleep across her infamously large American history textbook. She woke just in time to catch her phone on the final ring. 

“Ms. Lewis?” A pleasant, accented voice spoke first on the other end. “This is Doctor Margaret Carter, I'm the head of the transplant department at Shield General. We have a patient that you seem to be a match for, a liver recipient. Would you be able to come back for more testing later this afternoon?”

“Oh, oh yeah!” She yawned and stretched out her neck. The pops were heard on the doctor’s end. “I'll be right there.”


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to DaScribbla for being my beta on this one. 
> 
> Also, I took this chapter down to fix a formatting issue and some awkward wording. If you managed to read chapter two already, nothing has changed, content wise

July, 1993

Darcy bent over, chest deflating with a long exhale, and pressed a small piece of chalk down into the tar. Tiny pieces flew away, colored her dirty fingers. Stepped back slowly, sweating, sun beating on her back. A single long line of yellow followed her. She smiled at it, a master artist and her greatest work.

“What are you doing?! You’re going to run over my house!”

“I’m nowhere near your house, Buck, leave me alone.” Darcy took a sharp turn left, still dragging the chalk along the ground, maneuvering just in time to miss Bucky’s foot. He’d built a long rectangular house coming down the driveway, each level a different color, with different rooms. She made a loop that expanded almost half the width of the driveway before making her way back to where she started. She stood up, wiped her sweaty brow. Looked from her work to his.

“What the hell is that?” He said it obnoxiously, right in her ear.

“You know you aren’t supposed to say that word.”

“Says who?”

“Mama,” Darcy said, rolling her eyes.

“She isn’t our mom.” Bucky rolled his eyes back.

Darcy ignores him, hands on her hips. To be quite honest she had no idea what she was drawing. But she liked it.

“You’re going to use all the yellow chalk,” he groaned.

She knelt down, drew a single vertical line branching off the oval. She spaced out another line beside it, creating two perfect parallel antennas coming off the oval. She sat down in the oval, crossed her legs, and began to space out more lines all around the perimeter.  
She heard a truck pull up the driveway and assumed it was their father, back from the Saturday Farmers Market. She was more than two-thirds the way finished. She hurried, wanting to finish it so dad could see.

“What are you doing there, son? Drawing with some chalk?”

That wasn’t their dad's voice. She shot her head up, swiveled around, accidently drawing a ray slash through two parallel lines. It was a man she hadn’t seen before, but who wasn’t unfamiliar. Same obnoxious voice, nose, and hair of the runt she called her foster brother. Even the walk was similar. Bucky and his father were built for movement, like horses or work trucks. All lean, hard muscle. Except leanness was replaced in the man by sickness, gray, hollowed sagging skin pulled over a shapely skull. The man that was Bucky’s birth father was nothing more than a shell, come down to lean over Darcy’s shoulder and peer with poked out blue eyes. Bucky had his mother’s eyes, Darcy would remember later.

“What’s this, a bug?” he laughs, hearty and loud, smelling of stale cigarettes.

“It’s a sun.” Bucky’s voice took over her own, defensive, cold. “What do you want?”

“I came to see you, boy. I’m here to take you home.” Darcy could feel the man’s muscle tighten. He must have heard the defensiveness in Bucky’s voice.

“I’m not going home with you. Does Laura know you’re here?” Bucky steps over the sun she made, grabs Darcy by her arm. It hurt, and under any other circumstance she might have tossed him off, maybe even hit him, except Bucky’s expression was serious, aged. She understood he was trying to protect her. He was unrecognizable. It was amazing how certain people could do that to you.

“I don’t need no goddamn body to tell me when I can and can't see my own son. You come here, boy, we’re leaving.”

The man reached out but Bucky was smaller, quicker, and dodged him. “Run!”

Bare feet slapped on tar, thudded against the grass, quicker than the hungover lump of a man that chased them. Darcy made it over the backyard fence just as Bucky’s father caught up, wheezing, arms flailing over the stake-posts.

“Who the fuck you think I am, boy? You forget who the hell you running from?”

“You ain't my daddy!”

Bucky surprised her by spitting on the ground in front of the fence where his father stood. A moment of silence, six pairs of eyes struggling for interpretation. Bucky and Darcy on the other side of the fence, chests rising and falling in sync.

The back door opened. Laura. The smell of freshly baked cookies and dinner. “Can I help you?” She came out, her arms instantly shielding her children, pulling them close. Darcy looked at Bucky. Sweat pooled on his top lip, his eyes were fierce, distant. He knew she was watching him but he didn’t take his eyes off his father.

“Just came to see my boy.” The man backed off. “I ain’t meaning to cause no trouble.”

“He ain’t your boy any longer.” She made slight jest of the man’s thick accent, an interesting mixture of northern New York and the Deep South. “And get off my property before I call the law."

The man wiped his nose with his finger. Shook his head, almost broke into a laugh. Bucky was shaking. From rage or fear it was hard to tell. He was shaking long after his father left. Bucky was brought into the kitchen, sat on the counter and given a glass of cold milk and a handful of cookies. Laura gave some to Darcy as well, began brushing Bucky’s slick hair back.

“I know this is confusing,” Laura says, tilting his chin to look at her. “For both of you.” She glanced down at Darcy before returning her eyes to Bucky’s. They were eye level, “And I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have…” she struggles to find words, “I shouldn’t have said that you weren’t his boy, he’s still your dad--”

“The hell he is,” Bucky said , monotone. Laura gave him a look, but let it go.

“Clint and I love you very much. We aren’t here to replace your parents, but we are always going to protect you and care for you, and that’s something your parents couldn’t do. Something that man outside couldn’t do. And that’s what is important, you understand?”  
Bucky nods. Laura looked down at Darcy. “Do you understand?” she asked.

“Yes.”

They finished their cookies in a charged silence. Laura left them alone to make a phone call to her husband, giving Darcy the opportunity to approach Bucky.

“Is he a bad guy?” Darcy asked. Bucky was drinking the last of his milk, and nodded. “I wonder what my dad is like.”

“You don’t know what your dad is like?” Bucky found that amusing. Darcy shook her head.

“I bet he’s annoying like you.”

“I bet he’s a good guy.”

“Real father of the year!” Bucky giggled.

“Well, he wouldn’t try to kidnap me at least!” She punched his arm.

“Yeah, because he doesn’t want you!” He screams back. “That’s why you’re here, he doesn’t want you, if he did then he’d be here. That’s why he left you with these strangers in this house. He doesn’t want you, and neither did your mom!”

She hit him. Hard. In a way and with a force that not a lot of children possess. He was propelled sideways off the counter, onto the floor. His glass shattered on the ground. She ran, not stopping to make sure her brother was uninjured.

Darcy hid in the bathroom, locked the doors and pressed her back against the door, like it would open without her weight to keep it closed. Wanting to push back, block out, keep out, the words, the pain, the hollow shell of a mystery man who might have been her own father.

*****

Present day

“Tell me about your childhood.”

Darcy stared at Maria Hill from over the rims of her glasses. “Excuse me? Why?”

Hill sighed and clicked her pen shut. “Your childhood, your family, anything along those lines. It’s standard procedure. Just to get a sense of who you are and what your motives are. Subconsciously, there may be some other factor pushing you that you aren’t considering.”

She sighed and shrugged, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “I mean, it's not like there's a lot to tell. Parents were young, about my age. I was a dorm room experiment, I guess.”

There was an awkward quiet. “Your parents,” Maria prompted after a short while. “What are they like?”

“Good question there. Hell if I know. She tried, I guess, my mom. I don't know. In and out of the foster system for a few years. I don't remember much. Never met my father. I was officially adopted when I was six, and that's that. Nice family, several kids. We were all adopted, so it was pretty close. Similar experiences, anyway.”

“I see…” A few more notes were written. “You're still in contact with the family?”

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be? Like I said, it was nice. The parents always treated us like their own, and I guess we had a pretty normal relationship.”

Maria leaned forward, growing more serious now. “Have you told them about what you're doing? And if not, will you?”

“I will later today,” Darcy promised. “They moved pretty recently. Dad’s from Iowa, so they went back. I got in late last night, so I didn't want to call, with the time zone and all. Oh, and the younger siblings- they're twins, sixteen- went back, too. So I'll get ahold of them, too. But my older brother knows, and he's who I'm closest with. He works at the hospital, so... Different name. Barnes. The Barton's let us keep our own. So… Yeah. That's that. I think they'll be supportive.”

As Maria wrote, Darcy stared at the fishtank against the back wall. As she watched the bubbles rise to the surface, she finally allowed her thoughts to wander. When she told herself the truth, she wasn't certain her intentions were genuine, or even admirable. The only thing she was sure of was that she wasn't meant to be. Her body was brought into being by accident and bad timing.

Back in the eleventh grade, when her high school honor society had hosted its annual blood drive, she became hooked on the high. “You guys are all doing a great thing!” the chipper Red Cross volunteer had shouted over the din of the crowded school gymnasium. “Every one of you could be saving up to three lives here!”

Good, Darcy remembered thinking as she watched the ruby liquid drip from her vein. Let me be decent for something for once. Glad someone could use me. On the outside, one would think she had every reason to be bitter. Injuries from a prior car crash had begun to take her father’s hearing, and only weeks before the Army had called to say that her brother was wounded in an overseas bombing. This was how she then justified the cynicism that had been ensnaring her for years.

Quickly the thrill and satisfaction from watching her blood drip into bags month after month faded. It wasn't until sociology class the previous year, when the professor casually mentioned living kidney donors, that she made her impulsive but definite choice.

****

“So what you're telling me is, I'm not a match.” Pepper swallowed back the rising lump in her throat as she stared across the table at the two transplant nurses.

“We’re telling you that there's a better match out there.” Sharon Carter, the lead nurse of the unit, did her best to be reassuring. “With just a little more time-”

“Time you know damn well he doesn't have!” Her lashing out was sudden, unexpected. As soon as it happened, she shook her head and covered her mouth. “I'm so sorry. That was- I don't-”

There was already a box of tissues on the table. Steve pushed it closer. “When I said that yesterday, that you don't have the time to wait? I don't think we’re so limited that we can't test anyone else. You saw how fast your test came back. We could find someone today.”

Pepper bit her lip, but nodded in agreement. She thought for a moment, breathing deeply, trying to force logic. “And until then, what? What's going to happen?”

Sharon and Steve glanced at each other for a moment before Sharon continued. “My aunt is the director of surgery. She's in there now, with the brightest interns and students we have, to do an exam. Once she's finished, we will have a better idea on how long we can wait.”

“But afterwards,” Steve interrupted awkwardly. As someone who had been in the vulnerable position of a surgical patient many times before, he hated anything that could sound like he was trying to take away a patient’s few liberties. He phrased it carefully. “Given how this situation came about, and how he's been saying that he doesn't care about survival, we need to get a psychologist’s opinion. I'm so sorry. There's a pretty good chance we would need to talk to you about being the legal medical proxy. All treatments, surgeries, hospitalizations, everything would be up to you.”

With these words, Pepper allowed herself a shred of hope. She sighed, forced a smile. “Well. I suppose it's time to find the donor, then? Because if it's up to me, it's happening.”

“I wouldn't expect anything less.” Steve gave her a genuine, warm smile. “Why don't you go home for a while? You look exhausted, and it's going to be a few more hours before we know what to do next.”

Once she agreed, Sharon stood. Her baby blue scrubs made a ruffling noise as she headed for the door. The sound was one of the many unique to a hospital that the three had learned to block out over the years. “I'll go get an update before you leave,” the head nurse offered on her way out.

The room in question was a floor above the conference room. After a quick walk, Sharon knocked lightly against the open doorframe. “The fiancée wants an update?”

The heart monitor picked up rapidly. “Pepper? She here?”

“Shh….” Peggy Carter, the aging but sharp director of surgery, stepped closer and pressed the oxygen mask back against her patient’s face. “She's in a meeting, and you'll see her soon. Rest easy, now.” Equally content and drugged, Tony’s eyes rolled back and he fell back asleep.

Peggy stepped out into the hallway and gestured for Sharon to follow. “What is it, dear?”

“Um, well, she just wanted to know what's happening, what your prognosis is and such.”

“Poor girl.” Peggy sighed. “He was so bright, when they first met. It's a shame, really. But I'm hopeful that we can get him back.”

“Right. Right, yeah… So, assuming psych does decide she can take over, and assuming we do try a transplant, how long-”

“Not long.” The older woman shook her head. “We don't have much time to find a suitable donor. I'd say, with the most intensive care, we have three months. Not long at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's that. Feel free to let me know what you're thinking!


	3. 3

Chapter 3

His hand laid perfectly still in her own, palm down against hers as he slept. Pepper watched him, thinking about things. Here, lately, it was easier to just think. Her emotions were cut off, abandoned. She spent a lot of time feeling numb, even towards him. It wasn’t that she didn’t love him, it was the exact opposite. Tony wanted to leave her. He wanted to leave her in a permanent, selfish way, and her heart had hardened in a desperate fear against it. She didn’t have time to feel the things that she knew she probably did feel; betrayal, grief, anger. She was fighting for his next breath as though it were her own, and the fight had taken something from her. Something she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get back again. Maybe, she thought, if he woke up, took her in his arms again like he used to, swearing he’d fight for her, fight for his own life, for the happiness Pepper knew he could have if he just tried, maybe she could breath again like she used to when she knew everything was going to be okay.

Tony woke up sometime in the night and squeezed her hand. She was dozing, woke up easily, helped him sit up and handed him a small glass of water.

“You been here all night?” Tony sipped some of the cool water, then reached over to brush the hair from her eyes.

“Where else would I be, Tony?” She didn’t mean to sound harsh, but she did. His expression changed, began to pull his hand away. She took it in her hands and kissed his fingers. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to watch me die, Pep,” he whispered. The words shook something in her, made her feel, if someone were to touch her, she might break into a million pieces.

“You’re not going to die.”

“Pepp--”

“You just have to fight.” Her jaw clenched. “That’s all you have to do. And I will handle the rest.”

“Have they found a donor yet?” he asked, tiredly, sipping more water.

“Rogers and Carter both seem optimistic.” She helped him hold the cup to his lips, his fingers shaking.

“Thank you.”

“We should know today or tomorrow, the way he was talking, it seems like he had one in mind.”

“Pepper.” He pushed the cup away, looked at her sadly. “My feelings haven’t changed. I don’t want to go through with the transplant.”

“I’m not letting you throw away your life, our life.If you would just talk to me--”  
He looked away, ripping his eyes away from hers. But not quick enough for Pepper to miss the pain that was pooling in them. Something had been eating away at Tony for a long, long time. Poking, ripping open, picking at the scabs of wounds unable to heal. He’d always been this way, Pepper thought, always had these scars. After his diagnosis, it seemed to rip something apart in him, he began to sink in on himself, became introspective of his life and his past. She got the feeling that he was missing a large part of himself, and the weight he carried when he was stronger, healthier, was now threatening to break him apart.  
“I know something happened,” she continued, before he could shut down again. “I never pressured you about it, I knew you would tell me when you were ready. I want you to know, whatever it is--”

He looked back at her, tears in his eyes. Pepper was unable to move, to speak, the pain was a tangible thing, and he was trying to hand it to her, across the gap that divided them. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

“Can you help me?” he whispered.

“Of course, honey,”

He pulled the covers back, exposed the hospital gown, his bare legs, long blue socks. He pointed to the bathroom across the room. She nodded, understanding, helped him up. It’d been awhile since he stood up, and bones were cracking, groaning in relief. Pepper smiled gently.

“You got it, old man?” she teases. It made him smile, at least.

When he returned from the bathroom he sat on the edge of the bed in silence for a long moment, Pepper could see he was debating something. His back to her, she slid into bed beside him, began to rub his back.

“That feels so good,” he says.

“You’re welcome.” She kissed his shoulder blade.

“I have something to tell you, Pepper.” His voice was barely over a whisper. She paused, pressed her face against his shoulder, wrapped her arms around him.

“Yeah?” she said gently.

“I have a child.”

It was the last thing Pepper thought was going to come out of the mouth of Tony Stark. The entire time she knew him, Tony had expressed a clear desire that he preferred not to have children, and with Pepper’s own health concerns, getting pregnant was hard, if not maybe even impossible. She’d made her peace with it, had mourned the loss of a child she wasn’t going to be able to have. So long ago had she done this, had left the thought from her mind, that bringing it up again was almost like it had been the first time they discussed it. She pulled away from him, sat beside him so she could see the side profile of his face, barren of emotion and pale.

“Woah.” A single word, produced by an exhale. “Have you...are you still in contact?” She struggled to phrase it, to process this.

“No.” Quiet tears, landed in his lap, “It was...I was young. You already know that I graduated high school early, at sixteen, went to college in the fall at MIT. I was studying nuclear energy, hardest class I ever took.” He chuckled, “The professor, I don’t remember her name, she offered some extra help, andI took it. I was desperate. Met her at her house one night on the weekend, it was late. She gave me a drink, it…” he shook his head, disgusted. “It had something in it, some drug. All I remember is, I woke up and I was naked on her bed, and she told me we had gotten drunk, that we shouldn’t tell anyone about what happened, she could lose her job... “

“Did you report her?” Pepper spoke with a clenched jaw as anger pooled beneath deep sadness. Tony shook his head.

“I couldn’t believe it, it was so….it happened so quickly, so out of the blue, it almost didn’t seem real. And I told myself that, that it wasn’t real, that the situation was normal, drunken sex and a forbidden romance. I told myself that over and over again. And then she told me she was pregnant. I couldn’t do it, Pepper. I left. I left her. I left my child.”  
He looked at Pepper, quietly sobbing. She took his face in her hands.

“You were so young.” She spoke clearly, slowly, in the weighted way that always calmed his mind. “You didn’t know what to do, you had been hurt, my love, and it isn’t your fault. What she did...it was so wrong, and it’s understandable what you did. And it’s forgivable.” The last part made him close his eyes, exhale, like some of the weight had been lifted.

“I’ve been searching for that child for so long, the professor went off the grid, the school had no records of her anymore, she must have changed her name. I searched for so long, trying to find my child, trying to make up for what I had done. I’m going to die and I don’t even know who they are.”

“Tony.” She wrapped her arms around him, feels him collapse against her, “I love you so, so much.” She spoke into his hair, the smells of their home flooding her. “You have to keep fighting, you can’t give up. I will help you. I always have and I always will. Please, don’t give up on me, don’t give up on your child, we will find them. If that’s what you want, we will find them.”

“It’s been too long, I’m…” He paused, breathed in shakily, “I’m so tired, Pepper.”

“Sleep, honey, come on.”

She laid him down on the bed, back inside the covers. He extended his hand out to her, asking her to join him. She took off her shoes, her sweater, set them on the chair in the corner. Slid in beside him, wrapped her arms around him just tight enough to not be too restricting but for him to feel like she was there. A calm washed over him. He buried his head into her arms.

“I love you so, so much, too,” he whispered. It’s the last thing uttered in the night, in the room, drifting off to sleep in tow with one another.

*****

When Darcy heard her name being called from across the waiting room, she hesitated. Looking up, she was slightly reassured by her brother’s boyfriend’s gentle smile. Slightly. As he pulled her into a hug, she became somewhat more at ease once his fresh pine smell covered up the heavy chemical antiseptic.

Steve led Darcy into the side room. Neither knew what to say first. They settled uneasily into a pattern, taking and recording her vital signs.

“Does everything look okay?” Darcy asked. She didn't really care about the answer. Rather, she was just looking for something to break the silence.

“Well, more or less. Your blood pressure is a bit on the high end. Nervous?”  
She blushed, but nodded.

“Darcy…” Steve knelt down in front of where Darcy was seated. “You know there's nothing to worry about, right? You can back out whenever you want. And if you don't, we’re going to take good care of you.”

“Yeah, I know that. It's just-” She broke off and sighed. “My brother. I know he’ll come around eventually. But I also know he thinks it's a stupid decision. And there are risks, and recovery time to think about. We’ve been through so much together. I can't add on any more stress, but I also have to do this. It just feels like it's something I need to do.”

“Darcy, look.” He took her hands and spoke gently. “I know I haven't been around long, but I know your brother. I love him, but he's stubborn. He's going to come around, but it'll take time. And ultimately, he isn't into the idea because he wants to protect you. You're right, the two have gone through hell and back, and you've done it together. He loves you, no matter what you chose to do.”

“Right…” She thought for a moment before handing over a stack of papers. “I was told to turn these in. My consent forms, old records, all that good stuff. I'm going to do it.”

“Okay, great.” Steve began to clean off her inner elbow for a blood test. “I get off at seven. How about you come over, and the two of you can talk about it?”

“I can do that.” She winced briefly at the familiar sting and pop as the needle passed through her vein. “I'd really appreciate it. I don't need his permission. I'm doing it no matter what. But I'd like him to respect this.”

“And that is…” Steve nodded and bandaged the puncture. “Darcy, that is more than valid. You two have survived so much, and I'm not going to try to pry into that. But look, you two love each other more than anyone else could pretend to imagine. You both want to protect each other.”

Though she knew this was meant to make her feel better, it felt like a punch to the gut. The air was knocked out of her. All she could do was bite her lip, and nod, and try not to be pulled down.

******

March 2003

“Wanda, sweetie, settle down.” Laura managed to pick up the slower-moving one of her three-year-old twins and set about cleaning cereal out of the girl’s hair. “How'd you do this, huh? How did this happen? You're so silly!” She kissed Wanda's cheek and finished wiping her sticky face. The toddler giggled and rushed back to playing with her brother.

The phone rang. It wasn't until the third ring that Laura realized that her husband couldn't hear it. She sighed, not out of frustration toward him, but from generalized aggregation towards the unfairness of the situation. Between the complex adoption processes and emotional baggage of their four children, their oldest son’s enlistment, and the recent death of his own brother, her Clint didn't deserve this.

Laura picked up the phone on its fourth and final ring. “Hello?”

A somewhat familiar, deep voice came from the other end. “Laura Barton?”

“Yes, sir. Who is this, please?” She gestured for the twins to quiet down, and gave them an affectionate smile.

“Mrs. Barton, my name is Nicholas Fury, I'm with the US Army. I'm calling about your son, James Barnes?”

There was something dark in the man’s voice. Laura gripped the phone tight; her knuckles turned white from the force. Her stomach simultaneously filled with ice, and dropped. The slight pause between the man’s answer and her response felt like eons. “Oh…”

“Ma’am, your son’s unit was caught up in a bad area. The medical team is evacuating the survivors to our medical center in Landstuhl. It's in Germany, but it's the closest one that's advanced enough for them.”

“And- Is-” She didn't want to say anything that might upset the little ones.

“He's alive. Stable, but critical. We can allow a few immediate family members to come see him. He's in pretty rough shape. Some familiarity would do him good.”

“Right, yes, of course!” She fought back the tears that were threatening to form. “Consider us on our way!”

Within the hour, Laura had found a babysitter for the twins, picked up Darcy from school, and arranged a flight. When the plane finally took off, she turned to Darcy. The weight of what she wanted to say was nearly unbearable. “I know you're worried,” she said gently to her daughter. “And you have every right to be. We are, too. We just need to stay strong, and believe that everything is going to work out. Alright?”

Darcy sighed and rolled her eyes, but nodded before going back to staring out the window. She stayed like that, frozen, for the remainder of the flight.  
When they finally landed, night had fallen. They were led to the base and shown inside the large central hospital. Clint and Laura were allowed in first. Darcy was left alone with her worries and anxious reverie. After some time- she had no idea, but it felt too long- had passed, she was jolted back into awareness when Clint placed a hand on her shoulder. Unlike the usual, he looked reserved, serious. “Alright, kiddo, you can go on in. He's asking for you.”

With shaking knees, she managed to make it down the hallway. The door was already opened, and she slipped in quietly.

Her brother seemed to be in limbo between consciousness and a hazy, drugged sort of sleep. While neither one spoke, Darcy could make out a hushed hissing noise from the oxygen cannula looped underneath his nose. A large bruise and several burns and stitched cuts ran from his cheek to neck. But the slow, steady beeping and wave formations coming from the heart monitor was all she needed- he was alive.

The brief moment of eye contact seemed awkward for both of them. Darcy looked down at the sheets of the bed. She attention was caught immediately. Monitors and intravenous lines for fluid, pain medication, and a blood transfusion all competed for space in his right arm. The left… Darcy looked, and immediately felt nauseated with apprehension. The left ended several inches above where his elbow should have been. Several staples were holding together what must have been a large, bloody wound. Darcy swallowed back her fear and tears before kneeling beside the bed.

“Hey there,” she whispered gently. “Thought I told you to watch out?” Normally, she would have gotten a laugh, or at least a smile. Nothing could have prepared her for the pained groan.

“Dar- Darcy?” He could barely manage the couple of syllables.

“Right here. I'm right here now. And you are never leaving my sight again.”

He made a slight move to grab her hand. He stopped, frozen and terrified by the realization that his intended motion didn't connect with a hand any longer. “But-” He stared down at the empty space. “Still feel it…”

“I know.” She took his other hand and squeezed firmly. It wasn't clear if she did it to support her brother, or to prove to herself that he was alive. “As soon as you're strong enough, we’re going home. All of us. And we can figure this out. I mean, don't we always?”  
He took a series of shaky breaths. It was clear that he was panicking. “Don't want to- don't-” he moaned. “Can't do… No…”

“Shh, hey, look at me. Breathe. We'll just have to figure out-” As the monitors became louder, doctors flooded the room. Darcy was pulled aside, asked to leave. As she looked down and slowly walked away, she heard him call out for her.

“Darcy, please… Just help me!”

*****  
Present

Maria tapped her pen against the notebook and once again, studied Darcy. “So, now, this experience with your brother. Do you think that might be influencing you in any way?”

Darcy shrugged. “He took a huge risk for something he believed in. Of course that influenced me. That's huge.”

“Right. But Darcy, what about your family? Is that time in your life making you think that you need to live up to some sort of legacy or expectation?”

“Yeah, with all due respect, that's bullshit.” She gave an unapologetic sort of smile. “He did what he thought was right, and now I'm doing the same thing in another way. That's all there is to it.”

“Well then.” Maria signed a paper and slid it into a folder. “On that note, I think you're ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowza. It has been over a year since I've done anything with this. I just finished my first year of college and I'm back home with absolutely nothing to do. 
> 
> So I'm a premed now. I took a medical ethics course that made me think of this fic, where it could go, all that. I also have some time this summer. Would anyone be interested in seeing it picked back up? It's been so long that I'm sure the style will be different, but I kind of want to see what I can do? Any input would be extremely appreciated.


End file.
